Private Performance
by lorkster
Summary: In one moment, everything can change. Be it for better or for worse. Written for the White Day giveaway at BA's IR FC. Theme: white roses. AU


**Name:** Private Performance

**Disclaimer: **I really don't own Bleach**  
**

**Rating: **G**  
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**Summary: **In one moment, everything can change...be it for better or for worse.

**~Private Performance~**

**Flashback...  
**

_Could you repeat that?" she asked in disbelief, watching her friend with widened eyes. He was bowing awkwardly, clutching a bouquet of white paper flowers and the little that could be seen of his face was bright red._

"_I sa…said tha..tha…that the ge…gen…gentle…gentleman requests a…a…a private performance…*gulp*…by the lady," he stuttered, looking up at her, his face redder than before.  
_

_She giggled._

_He threw the flowers at her_

"_Why did you have to ask like that?" she questioned while trying to stifle her laughter. She really had to stop as his face was becoming redder by the minute._

"_Well, I saw it somewhere…" he huffed, angrily moving away from her. Of all the nerve, he had worked so hard to come up with that speech and she was laughing. He would…_

_A hand on his arm stopped his train of thought. She stood beside him, a slight hint of pink on her cheek._

"_After the show tonight, the lady will grant you a private performance," she said, not looking at him.  
_

_They stood there in awkward silence till the honking of a horn announced his transport home had arrived. He bolted for the door, pausing only when he reached it._

"_And it has to be better than what the rest of the audience will see," he yelled then took off._

_Picking up the paper flowers, she smiled as she recalled his embarrassment. _

_She would give him the performance of a lifetime._

_Sadly enough, he never did make it to any of her performances…

* * *

_

It had been 5 years.

5 long years since the accident that had claimed his memories. 5 years since he had been hit while rushing off to surprise her with flowers before her performance. 5 years since she had seen the battered bruised hand tightly clutching the three white roses whose perfection was no more, while the doors of the operating room closed infront of her.

The evening that had started with a promise of something new and good, had suddenly gone downhill. The thunderous applause of the crowd that had stood cheering her performance, had then seemed like a distant noise. All that had been too much for the 13 year old to bear.

The star of the dance club, the performer of the show, the girl who had touched hearts with her dance that night, had sat on the floor and wept.

5 painful sorrowful years since she had been told that he had to get better treatment somewhere far away. A place where hopefully his brain could recover—where that blank look in his eyes would be gone—where he could be free of the nerve wracking pain that assailed him each time his brain tried to piece together something.

She had accepted it sadly, knowing he needed the treatment to recover fully. She had seen the seizures, she had heard his screams of pain and she would easily comply with the one request that he had spoken to her:

_Please leave me alone_

She knew he said that because he feared the pain--the horrible pain that came everytime his brain tried to gather what was familiar. The pain that came when her name rolled off his tongue as he tried to familiarise himself with it once more while his mind rebelled._  
_

She had gone on with her love of the dance, pursuing it with all her energy. Her friends and family had only watched her sadly, trying to offer hope and comfort for what looked like a helpless and hopeless case.

She wrote to him every month—wrote about her fears, her accomplishments, her highs and lows and her memories of him. She wrote diligently, never missing or forgetting to write. Her letters were long, her words flowed onto the paper straight from her heart.

But the one who received them never replied.

He had relapsed and lost consciousness.

No knew when he would ever wake up.

Tonight, she had made her decision. She would comply with his request. She would leave him alone. Tonight, she had sent the last letter—the one which had her confession of her feelings…and the farewell.

The one that promised to comply with his wishes.

The one that told him she would finally leave him alone.

He wasn't the only one she was saying goodbye to. This would be her last time to dance. This had been another way of connecting to him—he, who had been her biggest critic and fan while she had taken unsure steps in an empty classroom—he, who had laughed at her steps and told her height was a disadvantage—he, who had opened up her heart with a promise of something else, all with a simple request for a private performance.

The audience gazed in wonder at the young lady up on the stage. No one could tell that this was her way of saying goodbye. Many who had seen her dance before, would always claim that tonight had been her best performance. She moved gracefully, dancing with skill, energy, motion, feeling, capturing the crowd with her movement. No one saw the tears in her eyes.

No one could see the pain in her heart.

No one could see her lips move as she bent to the thunderous applaud at the end. She was whispering her goodbyes, even as the crowd yelled out _ENCORE!

* * *

_

Flowers assailed her once she entered her dressing room. The huge bouquets competed with one another for space, for air, for glory, for her. Looking at them, she was reminded of 3 white roses, battered…bloodstained…she would not think more about it.

Her eyes moved to her dressing table, arrested by what they saw there.

3 white roses lay there.

This small collection seemed to be mocked by the larger bouquets behind her—and yet it was these three that captured her interest—these three that made her heart stand still—these three that drew her to the table, mouth dry, fingers trembling, breath held. The words on the simple white card brought tears to her eyes.

_Rukia, you owe me a private performance. I am waiting! Ichigo_

She run with all that she had…run towards the stage. The flowers and the note held tightly in her hands. Her heart dared to believe it was true…her mind argued against it, but still she run, guided by who knows what!

There he stood…so tall, so handsome…grinning in the manner she knew from times past. Her legs suddenly felt like rubber, her body trembled fiercely and she gladly gave in to gravity.

In a flash he was beside her, strong hands supporting her. She could only look at him through a film of tears, her fingers touching his face, hoping this was not a dream.

"It's me," he said, taking a hold of her trembling hands, "it's really me."

Her head was too full of questions which showed in her eyes. Her mouth was not yet complying with her brain. She heard him speak of how he had woken some months before, how he had undergone the grueling task of getting back on his feet…how he had still had no memories of the past till his father showed him her letters. Her hundreds of letters that had awakened something in him…her letters that had reminded him of the past. With his brain trying to function, the return of the pain was expected and many had feared he would have another relapse. But he surprised them all…faced the pain head on, doing this for himself, his family, his friends…for her. He had worked at it, worked until he could be given a clean bill of health—worked at it till the doctors had called him insane.

And here he was, before, not 100% back to his old self but she could not ask for more. Her fingers gripped his shirt tightly, her eyes overflowed with tears. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout, to think…all she could do was hold onto him.

"You…you remembered?" she asked hoarsely, cursing her trembling voice as she held up the roses before him.

"Yeah," he grinned sheepishly, "you never did get the others."

She grinned in return, trying to wipe her face.

He took the flowers from her, stood a short distance from her and gallantly bowed while reciting the words spoken from long ago.

"The gentleman requests a private performance by the lady," he said with a big grin on his face.

She burst out laughing, her heart filling up with happiness.

The lady would comply.

She would give him the performance of a lifetime.

**END

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**Author's rant: **This fic was started, stopped, dreamt about, edited, forgotten then finally restarted and took off in a totally different direction than what I had planned. I hope you enjoy it..am not sure what I was doing.

Please read and review


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